Mr. Matson looked bewildered, but his astonishment was not as great as that of Clara, who at that moment put her head in the door to announce that lunch was ready. 33
“What are you millionaires talking about?” she asked.
“What do millionaires usually talk about?” answered Jim loftily. “Money—the long green—iron men—filthy lucre—yellowbacks——”
“If you don’t stop your nonsense you sha’n’t have any lunch,” threatened Clara, “and that means something, too, for mother has spread herself in getting it up.”
“Take it all back,” said Jim promptly. “I’m as sober as a judge. Lead me to this lunch, fair maiden, and I’ll tell you nothing but the plain, unvarnished truth. But even at that, I’m afraid you’ll think I’m romancing.”
The merry group seated themselves at the table, and Clara, all alive with curiosity, demanded the fulfilment of Jim’s promise.
“Well,” said Jim, “the simple truth is that that fellow who was here this morning offered Joe sixty-five thousand dollars for three years’ work.”
Mrs. Matson almost dropped her knife and fork in her amazement. Mr. Matson sat up with a jerk, and Clara’s eyes opened to their widest extent.
“Sixty-five thousand dollars!” gasped Joe’s father.